


Stone-Cold Emptiness

by Sasako_Haise



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rivalry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 10:15:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28633872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sasako_Haise/pseuds/Sasako_Haise
Summary: Yuuri Katsuki and Viktor Nikiforov are rivals, alternating winning gold every year. While Viktor is an open, emotive person, Katsuki is cold, almost emotionless. Viktor often compared him to a robot, heartless and calculating, except on the ice, where he seems and free as a bird. But after one year at the Grand Prix, he no longer knows what to think.What is the answer to the enigma that is Yuuri Katsuki?
Relationships: Celestino Cialdini & Katsuki Yuuri, Katsuki Yuuri & Yuri Plisetsky, Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added, Phichit Chulanont & Katsuki Yuuri, Victor Nikiforov & Yuri Plisetsky
Comments: 4
Kudos: 46





	Stone-Cold Emptiness

**Author's Note:**

> The updates for this are gonna be really slow, so please be patient! Also, comments are really appreciated and they keep me motivated.

Viktor Nikiforov stepped of the ice, feeling like a winner already. This was his year for sure. There was no way that Katsuki could beat that performance. 

He looked back at the crowd, seeing the rest of his competitors clapping, with looks of awe on their faces. Well, except for Katsuki, that is. He was clapping, but Viktor knew that it was just so that his fans didn’t think he was rude. 

He got off the ice, took off his skates, and waited for his score. When it came on the boards, he pumped his fists in the air, whooping with pride. 119.75, his new personal best, a new world best! After talking to the press for a minute, he walked over to the booth where his competition was, a swagger in his step. 

After receiving praise from most of the group, he turned to Katsuki, and Phichit, who as usual was by his side. While Phichit congratulated him on his new best, Katsuki just looked at him, as if he was staring into his sole and seeing all his secrets. It made Viktor squirm inside, and it was the first thing that he started to hate about Katsuki. 

The other remained silent as usual, his body in its usual stiff shape, which only changed on the ice. The only time which Viktor had seen him looking free was on the ice. In fact, during his routines, he looked like freedom and emotions themselves, which was crazy compared to his usual expressionless demeanour. 

“Good luck beating that, Katsuki!” he said with a smirk, as there was no way that Katsuki would beat him this year, after his complete flop last year. 

None of them had any idea what had happened, but last year, at the final Grand Prix, Katsuki had seemed off to them all. He was more twitchy, and was fidgeting a lot. Then, a few minutes before his turn, he when missing. The group had searched for him, and when they found him, he was curled up in a corner, sobbing. 

To say that they were shocked would be an understatement. They couldn’t comprehend that the emotionless robot was sitting on the floor, crying his eyes out. Phichit had silently ordered them to leave, and when Katsuki had returned, in a new costume, there was no trace of tears on his face, except for his red eyes. But when he had performed, it was clear as day that something was wrong. His routine looked spent, as if all of his fuel was used up, compared to his normally colourful performance. He looked like he did off the ice. The whole time, Phichit had watched with sad understanding on his face, as if he had expected that to happen. 

Katsuki had scored the lowest he ever had before, an 87.92, but he didn’t seem to care. In fact, the rest of the day was spent in some kind of trance, like he was just existing, floating through the hours, like some kind of ghost. Viktor had taken note of the look in his eyes, dead and defeated, and had chosen not to antagonize him, praying that he returned to normal the next year so that he had some proper competition. 

And he had. Katsuki had come back as the usual robot, and everything would be the same, if not for the worried glances Phichit kept giving him, as if making sure he was still there. 

Viktor was brought back to the present by Katsuki’s body stiffening even more, if that was possible, and Phichit’s even more than usual worried glance. 

In response to Viktor’s antagonism, he said, “I don’t need luck,” in his flat voice. 

It was Viktor’s turn to stiffen, annoyed by Katsuki’s confidence in himself, even after last year’s should-be crushing defeat. Why did nothing affect the man? It was like every insult or compliment just passes through him. The only person who he seemed to care what they said was Phichit, and you could only tell by the slight twitch of Katsuki’s lips when the other congratulated him or said something particularly funny. 

Phichit, on the other hand, clung to every word that passed from Katsuki’s lips. When he praised him on a performance, as he did for everyone, (but it was only to keep up his appearance, nothing else) Phichit seemed almost bashful. Viktor always wondered about why the two polar opposite were the best of friends. The Thai man could do much better than Katsuki, but they had been together for as long as Viktor had known them. 

Katsuki was called up to the rink, and he was about to leave when Phichit grabbed him by the sleeve and whispered in his ear. Viktor was sure that he wasn’t supposed to hear, but because of how close he was, he just about made it out. 

“Skate from your heart.” 

His rival stepped into the ice, and something changed. Like very other one of his performances (except last year’s), his demeanour immediately changed, and he relaxed, every step to the centre of the rink was graceful, like his routine had already started. 

He made it to the centre, got into position and waited to be introduced. 

“Katsuki Yuuri, three time Grand Prix final gold medalist, here today, performing to a song composed for him, on heartbreak. The song is called Hell Hath No Such Fury.” 

On heartbreak, Viktor scoffed. How could a man like him ever love in the first place? “That’s where you’re wrong, Viktor.” He startled when a voice next to him spoke. Did he say that out loud? “The only thing a man like him can do is love. Love and skate,” Phichit said with a soft, almost sad smile. 

His words confused Viktor, but he had no more time to dwell on it, as the music started and he turned around to see what he was up against. 

The music started off slow, a few dark chords of piano, and Viktor had to admit that it was beautiful. It had all the right elements, in just the right places. He wished he knew who the composer was, because he needed a piece like that. 

Then, Katsuki started moving, and all Viktor could think was Oh. The routine was, for lack of better words... breathtaking. It showcased all of the elements of love, the joy, hope, pain, sadness, and helplessness. Katsuki was emotions incarnate. Viktor couldn’t tear his eyes away, from this person he couldn’t claim to know, pouring his heart out on the ice, for everyone to see. 

It could probably be called the greatest performance he had ever see, and by a long shot. The moment Katsuki stopped, with one hand over his heart, and the other reaching out to something everyone else couldn’t see, it broke his heart and remade it. Katsuki was right. He didn’t need luck, he had everything he needed right there in him. The crowd erupted in cheers, some sobbing and hugging each other, and some jumping with joy. 

Katsuki stepped off the ice, and sat at the Kiss and Cry, awaiting his score. After what seemed like an eternity, but was only a few minutes, the score popped up on the board. It was... 138.68. 

Katsuki gave one of his rare smiles to the camera, as Viktor sat in shock. He had been beaten... by almost 20 points. Even in the past, when Katsuki had bested him, it was always by only a few points, up to five. But here he was, a whopping 20 points below his rival, who had taken the title of the best score in the world from him after less than ten minutes of it being his. 

But it wasn’t that the performance didn’t deserve such a score. Anyone could see that that performance had beaten Viktor’s. 

But Viktor suddenly got mad. Had he gotten a score like that, he would be doing a victory dance, or yelling at the top of his lungs, but all Yuuri did was smile. It was frustrating, to say the least. Not only had he been beaten, but the man acted like it wasn’t a big deal, and he didn’t even look happy! No, Viktor was furious. 

Katsuki Yuuri was an ass.


End file.
